One day, without knowing it would be the last time, my Dad parked his old tractor next to the little patch of trees out back on our property. For years he had used it to work in our little berry field, then a few more years when we took out the berries to plant nursery stock. And then one day, it was not needed anymore. Dad retired. No more berry field, no more nursery stock. He replaced it with a little Kubota for the smaller jobs he had around the place.  There it sat one year after another until it was covered with wild berry vines, broken limbs from the maple tree above it, and moss. Lots and lots of moss.  The tires went flat and became submerged in the soil and decomposing leaves.  A few weeks ago, my Mom saw it sitting out there all hidden and thought maybe she should clear it off. Dad thought it was kind of silly to work so hard on an old broken down useless thing. It took a while to get it done, but that old tractor was in plain view for all of us to see last Sunday on Easter. It is a piece of our history. I remembered the days we used to see Dad or Mom riding on it as they worked the ground to grow the berries that provided us with extra money as we grew up. I remember riding with one of them and even getting to drive it myself for fun. Funny how memories are made up of so many things, I can still hear the sound of it in my mind as it cranked up , yes, it had to be cranked! This old tractor put in a lot of miles before it was finally retired.  Now it is proudly on display.